The Walking Dead - What Remains
by atomjenkins
Summary: A quick one-shot set in Telltale's Walking Dead video game universe. Contains HUGE SPOILERS for the recent episode 'All That Remains' as well as Season 1's 'No Time Left'. I wondered what happened after that THING went down in the first ten minutes of the episode. Rated T for minor gore and for being...well, the Walking Dead. Note: This is based on my own choices within the game.


A gunshot.

A bang, an explosion of light and noise, ringing in their ears and ricocheting around the faded tiled walls of the bathroom. It was almost deafening, even for these people who had heard many of these noises; had even been the cause of some of them.

Silence.

Time seemed to slow down. Clementine watched the blood burst out from a hole in the woman's chest, spattering the sinks, the walls, the mirror, even her. The woman fell to the ground, not like a graceful collapse, but a violent slam into the wall before landing on her back as her – no, Clem's – gun clattered to the floor. A scarlet pool began to form from her wound. Clem wasn't even looking at her. She was looking at Christa, who had sunk to her knees, tossing her own rifle aside and cradling Omid's limp form in her body, wrapping her arms around him protectively as she gave little, helpless, muffled sobs.

Clementine wished time could stop.

No. She wished it could go back; back what felt like millennia, but in reality was only a few moments ago – Omid and Christa and her were happy; or the closest thing to that you could be nowadays, anyway. They were arguing – well, not arguing, more disagreeing – actually, Clementine had never seen them have a proper fight before – over the name of their unborn child. And they'd been laughing and they'd been happy, poking fun at one another, like some strange dysfunctional family. Clementine had almost believed things could stay like that. She'd almost forgotten about Lee. About everything.

Reality bites. And infects you. And makes you a walker.

Had all that really been…what, five minutes ago, if that? They'd had plans, they'd had a future, they'd had a new life to take care of, and now all of that was just…gone? One bullet was all it took?

Clem shook her head in frustration. That _was _all it took. The group before had had plans, ideas, wishes, hopes and dreams that had all ended so quickly and so easily. Clem realized she wanted to rewind much further back – before the woman, before Omid and Christa, before the stranger, even before Lee. She wanted to rewind to a world where that didn't happen. That was a nicer world.

Christa began muttering softly and despairingly to Omid, running her fingers through his stubbly hair, as Clem stood and watched, rooted to the spot, unsure what to do. She eyed her pistol, lying on the floor, just barely in the grasp of the woman.

Clem felt a sudden burst of venom that her kind nature quickly subdued. _You ruined everything. _Clem thought to herself. _You just had to go stealing our stuff, didn't you? It could have been anyone else, but it had to be us. This is all your fault! _Clem reminded herself that people were desperate, out of their minds, and desperation turned people into bigger monsters than the walkers. She couldn't bring herself to completely blame the woman, but she couldn't bring herself to put the accusing thoughts she had about her to rest either.

She was suddenly aware of Christa's eyes on her. She had been vaguely aware of Christa's quiet pleas becoming increasingly pained, but had not noticed that they had actually stopped, being too caught up in her own thoughts. Christa looked at Clem, and for a moment the little girl saw the same hatred in her eyes which Clem herself had shown the dead woman just a minute ago, but Christa looked away quickly and fixed her gaze on the woman instead.

Clem wondered if there was anything she could have done to prevent this. Maybe if she hadn't been so scared...maybe if she'd remembered that, despite Omid and Christa being here, she was on her own. She had to _survive_, but she'd abandoned her only weapon in plain view on the sink while she _hid_ in the toilet cubicle. And Clem knew people were getting more and more anxious the longer this thing went on with no sign of slowing or much less change, which meant they were getting more violent and reckless. She should know by now that people didn't _care_ if she was a little girl all on her own anymore. Mercy had died long ago, in the first days. People cared whether Clem was a distraction for walkers, a threat, or a loot supply. Nothing else.

Perhaps if she'd kept all this in mind before…_no, no, no, _she tried to tell herself – she couldn't possibly have prevented this, it all happened too fast, and the woman was emotionally unstable, out of control, she couldn't have said anything…but Clem couldn't help but feel a strong pang of guilt when Christa looked back at her, no accusatory look in her eyes now; just sadness, her chocolate eyes watery and distraught. In all the time they'd spent together, Clementine had never seen Christa like this, nor did she ever want to again. Never had she seen her looking so…weak.

Tired. Broken.

Christa eyed the pistol on the floor. She didn't say anything. A look was all that was needed. A bullet was all that was used.

"You…you'd better leave, sweetie." Christa choked, not taking her eyes of the gun. "It…I…it won't be nice."

"I'll do it." Clem said, in barely more than a whisper.

Christa heard her. "No, honey, no…you don't…"

"I've done it before. I'll do it." Clem repeated, a little louder, although that only made the wobble in her voice that much clearer.

"I know, sweetie, but you shouldn't…I'll…I can…"

"The baby won't like it." Clem said defiantly, swallowing down a lump in her throat. She picked up the gun and loaded it, just to stop Christa arguing with her.

"Oh...Clementine…Clem..." Christa broke down again, tears streaking down her face and dripping down onto the floor, mixing with the spilled blood.

"Don't watch me." Clem said, and Christa saw her eyes harden and go curiously dead. Clem was still a little kid, but she was tough, and she was doing something she'd seen adults do – detach and remember killing them is the right thing to do. It's a mercy, not a crime.

Christa slid the door closed before dumping herself down on the step outside the bathroom. As she listened to the click of the gun, she curled up, shrouding her unborn baby – the last piece of Omid left on this earth – in her warm arms as she wept. It would have to get used to one pair of arms.

There was another bang.

A gunshot.

A tearing, a ripping, a roaring, a screaming.

Silence.

Clem watched the blood spill down Omid's forehead. _Right between the eyes. _She mused sadly. If he was alive, he wouldn't have felt a thing. If he was dead, he wouldn't be coming back.

Just like Lee taught her.


End file.
